Private War
by Chris Stork
Summary: Daggers in the dark, flashes of pain and death, Janus masked allies and foes. Just parts of a private war.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Hellsing and all other associated copyrights owned by Kouta Hirano and others. Should any one of these parties wish it, I will remove this story at once.

* * *

Private War: Chapter One 

It had been bad before, but not like this.

Blood stained the once bright floors of the placid entrance. Men rushed by, medics struggled with triage. Confusion and noise prevailed, men screamed and chaplains prayed over men the doctors could not save.

Integra watched it all unfold. Iscariot had been good enough to inform her that some members had gone rogue and planned an ambush. One minute before the ambush was sprung. Retribution would come, somehow, she would see to it. Now, she needed to see, to _know_ how many men lost, crippled and maimed.

Away from the maelstrom one solitary place was kept from the chaos. One man was left alone, laid out on a bed, almost reverently. No doctor or chaplain had attended, nor even seemed to notice the wrecked and ruined body.

He had been burned so horribly that little flesh remained, only a blackened skeleton barely covered with chunks of flesh and the thin ashes of his uniform. Avoiding the pandemonium, Integral quietly slid over trying to recognize the brave, fallen soldier. She stood over him looking for dog-tags, a chart, anything. As she examined him, the head rolled over and the one eye not sealed shut opened.

It was Seras.

* * *

"Bishop Ingram Smith should have given better warning. Ensure his successors do", Integral said, her shaking hand pushing the map over her desk to _him_. She wanted to order him to kill everyone, to just slaughter the whole church, but she couldn't, too many were against her on the Round Table, too many games being played. 

A gloved hand slowly descended to the scrap of paper, resting momentarily as if savoring the moment . Alucard's eyes never left Integra's. He picked it up, and raised to his face. Dark glee and desire danced in his eyes. Alucard stared lovingly at the map, caressing the stark lines and gentle curves with each glance, memorizing every detail, mind already going through the exquisite details of tonight's horror.

"No one must know, Alucard", Integra interjected, catching his line of thought.

He looked hurt for an instant. Then his sadistic half-smile returned; he would ensure that the murder would remain between the two of them.

"By your Order, Master", and he was gone.

Integra let go of the breath she didn't realize she was holding. She didn't want him to start baiting her over this. It would be too easy for Alucard to set her off and make her do something that she would regret.

Her hands were still shaking, from rage or fright she could not tell. She snatched a cigar and lit it, inhaling furiously, trying to get the images of pain and death from her mind.

* * *

The survivors had been looked over for wounds, anything not life threatening were bandaged and told to report to the courtyard. There was no calm reflection on their lives, no peaceful rest for the battered and bruised. Only a maelstrom of hate and fury. 

"This is fooking _bullshite_!"

"Calm down, Malcolm"

"We lose more to _them_ than the _god-damn_ blood-suckers!"

"Jack, please, just sit down."

Lieutenant Smith was a simple man and he looked the part; unremarkable features, and a bland personality. He was not a great thinker, he simply _endured_ things, being shot at, the screams of battle, seeing his friends cut down, dealing with these were second nature.

"She won't do shite!"

Mutiny was not on that list.

"Just calm down, Sir Hellsing will do something."

Jack wheeled around, his eyes burning with anger.

"She didn't do anything last time! Only fucking reason were still here is because Seras pulled us out and they almost killed _her_!"

The tone of the screaming around him was changing. From the simple ranting to something darker: Action.

"That's ENOUGH!", he paused for a moment to ensure they had stopped talking,"She will retaliate and I", he stopped, his anger leaving him with the realization of what he was about to say. "I will ask her exactly what we will do. Report to the barracks, I will return shortly."

He turned on his heel stiffly, and walked out. He avoided the nurses and medics, walking around the whole of the entrance hall, trying to keep from their paths, his mind focused on the meeting ahead. Integra had not wanted any further escalation, but now it might be different, with Seras almost dead she might, no, she _would_ order them out, to clean those lunatic zealots from the country. He walked up the staircase, keeping to the side to avoid running orderlies.

He moved slowly, giving himself time to compose his request and delay the meeting as long as possible. Integra had looked like she was going to murder someone when she saw Seras. The door to her office was approaching faster than he would have liked. He reached to the door, it was strangely quiet; all the sounds from below were completely cut off. He waited, hoping that the moment would give him the right words. He reached out, cautiously, and knocked on the door.

"Lieutenant Smith, sir"

"Enter."

He opened the door slowly, fervently wishing that Alucard was not there. Integra was seated behind her desk, smoking. He walked around her desk, turned and saluted.

"Lieutenant Smith, I intended to summon you for a report on the situation, it seems more convenient to do it now" she said.

"Uh yes, sir", he paused not knowing whether to feel relieved or anxious over the delay. "Twenty-six casualties, Commander Thompson, Lieutenant Ignault, Sergent Hoyle, and all of Alpha squad" he lowered his head and exhaled, "I think you've already seen Sergent Victoria."

Integra did not directly answer.

"Thank you, I expect a full report tomorrow, you are dismissed."

He turned to leave, almost forgetting why he was there.

"Sir, What is our response? What are we going to do?"

Integra waited, measuring her words. After several moments she spoke.

"There are many things at work. The problem will be dealt with. You are dismissed."

The tone of her voice told him that there would be no further discussion on the point.

"Yes sir", he saluted stiffly and left.

He walked back to the barracks, taking the longest, most convoluted route he could, buying himself time. He needed to tell the men that Iscariot would be taking care of, and he needed it to be truthful.

At last he gave up and headed to the barracks. He would tell them what Integra told him, hopefully it would be enough.

It wouldn't.

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Author's Notes: All comment, criticisms, and observations are most welcome. Please, do share your opinion of the story. 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Hellsing and all other associated copyrights owned by Kouta Hirano, Genon and others. Should any one of these parties wish it, I will remove this story at once.

* * *

Private War: Chapter Two

The Round Table would assemble shortly. Integra was, of course, first. She took a moment for herself. She knew the whole gathering was a waste of her time. She had to try. She prepared her words, honed her cause. She breathed in, the age of the room, the oak table. Her grandfather had this room commissioned. When he passed on it had become her father's. Now it, and everything that went with it, was hers. _What would father do?_ She briefly wondered.

She took her seat and waited for the rest.

Sir Montenegrin and Ashby were first in. Both in their sixties, at times they looked like brothers. Montenegrin in a grey suit, _always_ grey, Ashby in black with his cane.

Neither would think of supporting her. Montenegrin because her lineage in England didn't go back thousands of years and Ashby would not because she was a woman.

Sir Islands, Penwood and Buxton were next. Islands strode away from the rest, keeping his distance as head of the Round Table both figuratively and literally. Penwood looked and always looked like uncomfortable in a suit. Buxton was there and that was his only defining feature.

Islands never voted, Penwood she might be able to bully into supporting her. Buxton she knew next to nothing about.

Robins, Paddock, Foss and Edwin strolled in afterwards. All pointedly ignoring each other. Whether they disliked each other or this was some game they played Integra did not know or care. Robins was a thin, reedy man that never took any action without spending an hour thinking it over. Paddock had an aggressive bearing and at times lived the definition of mercenary. Foss looked like a jolly Father Christmas. Of all the Round Table members he was the only one that had ever entered military service. To Integra Edwin screamed fake. He would argue passionately for something then vote it down. Be cordial and stab them in the back a moment later.

In the past only Foss had supported her.

Sir Corwin was last. He was a few years older than Integra, and elevated to the Round Table recently. Everything he wore contributed to the militaristic image he cultivated so diligently.

He always voted with her.

Five against, three for and one maybe. A waste of time.

They took their seats, and Islands called the meeting to order.

"The first order of business is the situation in Ireland-"

Corwin did not wait for him to finish.

"The bloody papists blew up schoolyard, what was I supposed to do?"

"One would think that the man in charge of the situation would calm things down."

"It _is_ calm."

"After several hundred deaths and mass destruction of property."

"All Catholic, a 'measured response' like you said you wanted."

Island pinched the bridge of his nose. This discussion was hardly new. At least now Corwin seemed to consider Catholics human.

"_Sir_ Corwin, focus on undermining Iscariot and remain out of the politics of the area."

"Very well, _Sir_ Islands." The emphasis was barely there, just enough to remind Sir Islands that they were, here, equals.

"With that understood, the next point: Rouge attacks have increased in England recently" Islands paused and shot Corwin a glare," and are affecting other operations."

"Thirty-five men dead in the last month, Iscariot is getting bolder. We are not an army. Sir Robins had been unable to stop Iscariot. This must end _now_. I ask that Hellsing be given to responsibility to deal with this."

"Here, here I say we show these bloody papists what-for!" Corwin yelled out. Islands glared at him again. Robins spoke first.

"The situation is most uhh ... _delicate_, careful, subtle movements are what we should aim for."

"Iscariot has no desire to be subtle" Integra responded.

"Hurmphh, any more subtle and we'll be given vampires free reign. If Iscariot cannot handle their extremists we will" Foss added.

Edwin nearly interrupted Foss in his hurry to speak.

"That would be an open declaration of war, and as Sir Hellsing pointed out they are not an army."

_You know what needs to be done_, a dark whisper came into Integra's mind.

"There is not much of distinction right now. We are not defenseless." Integra left the implication hanging in the air.

"Hardly necessary Sir Hellsing, Her Majesty maintains not only an army, but a navy and air force for such occasions. If the Church wanted open war they would not last the week-end" Foss concluded.

_An order._

"Sir Foss is correct, Iscariot has shown no effective method of controlling the fringe elements. Weeding them out seems to be left to us. There is no telling what they will hit next: Ports, factories, roads", Buxton announced. This was the first time in months he'd actually spoken in council. Integra had no idea why he thought Iscariot would attack anything other than Hellsing. She wasn't going to question it. Edwin turned to face Buxton.

"Iscariot may very well engage anything they believe supplies us. _If_ they think they are unopposed" Integra added.

"And increase the likelihood of further attacks. Giving Iscariot more time is the best option" Paddock chimed in.

_**Give me an order.**_

Buxton turned to face him.

"Sir Paddock is that really a choice? Iscariot goes where they please, killing and burning. What if they attacked our infrastructure next? How can we chose between our borders and economy?"

Paddock swallowed.

"We should chose the economy, of course."

Buxton shrugged and smiled.

Integra kept pushing, but she could move none on their stances. Six against, three for. A complete waste of time.

* * *

There were other matters voted on. None of them concerned her. She voted her conscious on each.

The gathering ended, slowly they filed out. Conversations lumbering on as they walked out. Sir Corwin stayed behind to speak with her.

"Bloody idiots, if I heard Sir Islands say 'we'll have peace in our time' I going to throw something at him."

Integra found him crass, but tried to be sociable with him.

"They will see, or they will be made to see."

"Hopefully sooner than later. I heard what happened to...uhh...Sarah is it?" He was the only one that never challenged her on how Hellsing should be run. She was thankful for that.

"Seras, she will recover in time."

"Ehn, getting closer. I'll remember her name one day. If you need any people I have a few guards who shouldn't embarrass themselves."

"Hellsing will be fine. We will continue as we always have." He'd asked before. She still answered the same way.

"If you do ever need anything I am more than willing."

He left. Both had plans of their own to attend to.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Hellsing and all other associated copyrights owned by Kouta Hirano and others. Should any one of these parties wish it, I will remove this story at once.

* * *

Private War: Chapter Three

"Ciao Enrico."

"Father Bernard."

"Buongiorno Bishop Maxwell."

"Buongiorno Bishop Claus."

"Maxwell."

"Bryant."

Mass was over, Maxwell slowly meandered out of Saint Peter's Basilica and towards his office in the Governorate Palace. The day was light and warm, the light reflected off the magnificent stained glass and cloaked the world in multiple hues. Enrico matched the ambiance, his face light and smiling. He passed many high-ranking clergy, answering questions cheerfully and promptly. He was not worried, no no no, He was perfectly in command of himself and all his tasks. Everything was going _wonderfully._ He knew more than a few were looking for any sign of weakness, any flaw to be exploited.

Enrico had been given the task of rooting out the 'Swords of Christ' a pretend group of Catholics killing Protestants in Ireland. He couldn't have cared less, they were heretical Protestants what were their lives worth anyway? But he took it anyway, it would help in the eyes of his superiors if he completed this minor task. Proof that he could put aside his feeling and work for the greater good. That had been months ago and they still hadn't been found. Progress into finding them was limited at best. He was at the Palace now, his face still set. Looking down the hallway, he had one more person to pass.

"Father Morelli, Buongiorno"

"Buongiorno Bishop Maxwell. Any luck with the search?"

"None yet, we will find them." There was no hidden agenda in his words, he sincerely wanted to know.

"Its Hellsing behind this I'm sure."

His hatred for Hellsing was almost cute. Sure he didn't like them either, but the thought that Integra was behind this was amusing. It was like she killed his dog. "All those Protestant dogs will pay!"

In his office Enrico let his expression go, only his closest friends were allowed in, and they already knew how he felt. Alexander was sitting down, looking straight at the ground.

"Ingram Smith is dead," he announced, not looking up. Enrico sat down slowly. He wasn't exactly a friend, but still.

"When?"

"Last night. They say it was a heart attack."

"Eighty-three right? He had a good life." Alexander had known him the longest. Forty years a friend. Alexander silently nodded. Maxwell waited a few prudent moments before asking.

"How is the search going?"

"Slowly, they have the devil's own luck. A couple of pretenders. Nothing seriously connected."

"Those are?", they would be useful as inflated figures. A few improvised connections, guesswork and they would fit as 'Swords of Christ' easily.

"Aidan Foley, Sean Ward, Father Kavanagh-"

"Didn't he get excommunicated a few years ago?"

"Close, he renounced a few of the hateful things he preached, apparentlly not all of them."

Perfect, a Father constantly in trouble. Very believable. Kavanagh just got promoted to cell leader. Ward would be the muscle and Foley the procurer. There a splinter cell broken up, all it needed was a typed up report.

"Anything else?"

"There was a child, maybe two three years old. They killed her. They took a rock and hit her. I could almost not tell she was human they beat her some much. When I found them and asked them why, do you know what they said?" Alexander looked up, his eyes haunted, "She's a protestant." Enrico had never seen Alexander like this. The undead were one thing. Smith's death and the troubles in Ireland had affected him like nothing else.

"If you want I can authorize a few days off," even in asking Enrico already knew the answer. The paladin shook his head.

"Still a lot of work to be done," he said as he stood up,"and the Lord's work is never done." Enrico stood up and wished him luck. After Alexander left, Enrico started typing up 'Alexander's' report along side his own.


End file.
